


A Piece of Cake

by Bradspyjamas



Series: Behind Closed Doors [1]
Category: Merlin (TV) RPF
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, M/M, RPF, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-03
Updated: 2012-04-03
Packaged: 2017-11-02 23:41:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/374666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bradspyjamas/pseuds/Bradspyjamas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where they finally get it together!</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Piece of Cake

  
As he turned his key in the lock, exhaustion and the beginnings of a headache threatening to swamp his happiness at finally getting back to their flat, the strains of “Codes and Keys” reached his ears.  Cracking his first smile in what felt like hours Colin hoisted his bags over the threshold and kicked the door shut behind him. 

 

‘Bra ...’ the greeting died on his lips as he looked around.  He’d expected the place to be a pit, what with Bradley’s inbuilt inability to see mess and the fact that he’d spent the whole of yesterday celebrating his birthday with ‘the men of Merlin’ – minus him of course.  Yet it looked as if a team of professional cleaners had been round.  Where were the abandoned t-shirts, the takeaway containers and milk cartons that usually populated the room? And, more to the point, why wasn’t Bradley spread across the couch, with his face creased in mid-hangover misery, watching old cartoons?

‘You’re back!’ Bradley’s head popped round the partition that hid the kitchen, no trace of hangover present under his grin.  ‘Good trip?’

‘I ... How? ... You ....’ Colin waved his arms at the clean living room, almost tripping over his rucksack as he shifted from foot to foot.

‘On the basis that you are a neat freak I can’t believe that the tidiness of our abode has upset you,’ Bradley’s smile was now wide enough to rival the joker’s as he loped over and grabbed Colin’s bags. ‘So it must have been a tube ride from hell that’s sapped your ability to form a sentence?’

‘I .. uh,’ Colin desperately tried to get his thoughts in order as his luggage was deposited in his room and Bradley continued to chatter in a most un-Bradley-like way as he disappeared back into the kitchen. 

His eyes swept the room again, a feeling of unease uncurling in the pit of his stomach.  It didn’t look like home, it looked like it had when Bradley had first offered him a room here.  When he was still trying to pretend that he knew how to use a saucepan and could tell one end of the hoover from the other.  It had taken less than a week for them both to realise that they were as diametrically opposite in their living habits as it was possible to be but it hadn’t seemed to matter. 

The flat - the only thing Bradley had accepted from his father since the man had walked out his family all those years ago and then only because his mother had demanded he take it - was more than big enough for the both of them. Colin had learnt to ignore the piles of clothes, the ridiculous number of newspapers Bradley insisted were delivered daily and the array of products lining the bathroom shelves.  Bradley had accepted that the kitchen was now Colin’s domain, never interrupted Colin’s yoga sessions and hadn’t batted an eyelid that first year when he’d brought Mal, his now ex-boyfriend, to spend weekends there.

This, this ... pristine, show-home of a room wasn’t how they lived.  It wasn’t them.  Yet there was nothing present that indicated what this was all in aid of.  _What or who_ , the small part of his mind that lived to make him miserable added,  _with emphasis on the who_.  The spookily clear coffee table only held today’s papers and a bottle of his favourite Rioja, all the CD’s and DVD’s were back on the shelves.  Nothing was out of place at all ... except ... there were new, matching cushions on the sofa. 

There had never been cushions on that sofa before, on the basis that cushions, as far as Bradley was concerned,  were things girls had around for hiding behind when they watched scary movies.  Not things men needed.  Colin’s argument that it might be quite nice to have some had been met with a blank stare and then the ever so Bradley like comment of “but you like horror movies”.  He’d never brought it up again.  These were dyed various shades of forest green, matching the colours he’d painted the main wall when Bradley’d suggested they redecorate, and looked like crushed velvet. He couldn’t imagine Bradley finding the right section of a department store to look for something like this, never mind actually paying for them. 

Swallowing hard Colin sought to think about anything else other than what had changed in Bradley’s life to generate a cushion buying spree.   _I don’t have any claim on him_ , Colin thought harshly,  _he’s my best friend and that’s it.  That’s all it can ever be_.  Looking at the cushions again he had to fight the urge to go over and stroke them.  _Whoever she is,_  s _he’s got good taste,_ he conceded with a grimace,  _in men and in furnishings._

‘... something happen?’ Bradley’s hand on his shoulder almost sent him into orbit, ‘Colin? Seriously, what’s the matter?’

‘Sorry,’ Colin shook his head hard as he turned.  He really needed to get a grip before he made a complete fool of himself, ‘I’m fine, really I am ...  Just sorry I wasn’t here for your birthday.’

‘Don’t be daft,’ the worry disappeared from Bradley’s face to be replaced by an expression Colin couldn’t place, ‘It wasn’t your fault the Jay’s needed you to stay down there an extra week. Besides,’ Bradley proffered a bowl, eye’s intent on Colin’s face, ‘I saved you a piece of cake.’

‘Thanks,’ Colin accepted the bowl dubiously, prodding the large wedge of cream covered sponge as if it were an unexploded bomb, ‘but I’ll pass.  I don’t fancy spending the early hours of the morning throwing my guts up.’

Bradley gave an inelegant snort and flopped onto the sofa, scattering the cushions.  ‘Suit yourself,’ he crossed his arms over his chest and his voice held a note of reproach as he added, ‘The cake’s completely vegetarian and that’s lacto-free cream.  I do pay attention, you know.  I’m not about to try and poison you.’

Colin just stared at the man in front of him, who was studiously not looking at him, wondering just what the hell the matter was.  True, he should have realised that Bradley would never hand him food he was allergic to but it had been the longest day of a long week and he’d said the first thing that came into his head.  Surely Bradley couldn’t be upset over that. Could he?

Colin sat down next to him, close enough that their knees were touching, and nudged him gently, ‘I spoke without thinking and I’m sorry. I know you’d not give me anything I couldn’t eat.’

Bradley’s fingers found the frayed edge of the fabric on the chair arm and began to pull at the loose threads.  He still didn’t speak and even a poke in the arm didn’t get any reaction.   _Have I got the wrong leg in the trousers of time?_  Colin wondered, the feeling of unreality becoming oppressive.  _Maybe if I walk out and come back in again it will all go back to normal._

The silence was so loud it hurt.  He wanted to speak, to somehow break this weird spell that had trapped them both, but he had no clue what words would do it.  Instead, grateful for the brief absolution it presented, he took a mouthful of the cake.

It was delicious.  The sponge was dense and full of cinnamon and some other spices he couldn’t identify and it was filled with peanut butter. His favourite peanut butter.  The stuff that he could only get mail order from the states.

But Bradley didn’t like peanut butter.  Come to that he didn’t much like Rioja, or green cushions, or Death Cab for Cutie either.  

The realisation blindsided him, hitting with all the force of an iceberg. 

All of this was for him.

He must have gasped because Bradley looked up; catching and holding his gaze with those eyes, the eyes that just lately Colin hadn’t been able to escape when he’d closed his own.  They had gone the deep aqua that Colin was sure Bradley reserved just for him and the confusion he saw in their depths made his heart hurt.  As they stared at each other, transfixed, one corner of Bradley’s mouth turned up slightly and his eyes cleared, resolve and something else glimmering in their depths.

‘Brad?’ it came out in a whisper and he could feel two spots of colour blossoming on his cheekbones. ‘Did ... is this ... I thought ...’

‘Are you always this articulate?’His voice was soft and oddly seductive.  Not a tone Colin had ever heard before.

He bit down on his lip as his hands started to shake. There were so many things he wanted to ask.  So many things he wanted to say, yet the fear that he’d misunderstood was choking him.  He waved the bowl of cake and settled for one word.

‘Why?’

‘People do crazy things ... when ....’

Bradley lunged for the bowl as it dropped out of Colin’s suddenly nerveless fingers and the end of the sentence was lost.    

Colin barely noticed. 

This couldn’t be happening.  He didn’t get happy endings.  Hadn’t Mal taught him that? He couldn’t be sitting here while the man he’d fallen in love with answered him with lines from one of his favourite movies. Lines that implied he felt the same.

He was wrong. He’d got it all wrong. He had to have done.

‘Col?’ Bradley’s voice held the barest hint of a quiver as he reached out, cupping the left side of Colin’s face with one hand. ‘You’ve got some cake ...’

He brushed the corner of Colin’s mouth with his thumb and it was as if someone had flicked a switch in Colin’s brain.  He could no longer hear Mal berating him, telling him how unattractive, how undesirable he was.  All that was gone.  Instead there was just one thought, one need, one desire.

Instinctively he parted his lips, touching his tongue to Bradley’s thumb in mute appeal for him to do whatever he wanted.  It worked. Bradley lunged forward, lips crashing into Colin’s as his hand slid round to the back of his neck, the other snaking round his waist, dragging their bodies closer together. Colin leaned into the kiss, trying to pour everything he was feeling into it in the way Bradley was - to give as much as he was receiving - but Bradley’s fingers were tangling in his hair and his tongue was plundering his mouth in such a way that all he could do was melt into the hold and moan.  Bradley broke the kiss to nip and suck at the skin just below Colin’s left ear and Colin tilted his head to give him better access, his own hands tugging at Bradley’s t-shirt, needing to feel muscle and skin under his hands.  Yet it wasn’t enough, he wanted to feel every inch of Bradley against him. 

He leant back, pulling Bradley with him so that they were flush against one another, side by side on the sofa, the bulges in their jeans pressed together.  His skin felt hot and tight, every millimetre burning as if Bradley’s body were a flame and, judging by the whimpers now coming from Bradley, he was experiencing something similar. 

Colin’s breath was coming in short gasps as their hands roamed freely, exploring the areas that had always been off limits before.  When Bradley’s hand ghosted over his cock Colin almost came there and then, but the next second Bradley froze and Colin thought, for one terrifying second, that he’d changed his mind.  

He hadn’t.

Instead he twisted, pulled Colin on top of him so they were staring straight into each other’s eyes once more.  His face was flushed, strands of hair stuck to his forehead and lips swollen from the kisses.  Colin had never seen him look more beautiful, or more vulnerable.   He opened his mouth as if to speak but then clamped it shut, a muscle jumping in his jaw.  Colin ran the tip of one finger down Bradley’s chest and spoke softly.

‘What is it?’

‘I ...’ Bradley closed his eyes as he spoke ‘I’ve never ... I don’t know how to do this, Col.’

‘Oh, well,’ he kissed his nose and waited until Bradley was looking at him again ‘you’ve done everything right so far,’ he murmured, his words garnering him a brilliant smile.  He lowered his head, pulling the neck of Bradley’s t-shirt aside and feathering kisses onto the exposed collar bone. ‘All  ... you ... have ... to ...do ...’ he said between kisses, slowing moving up and down his neck  before capturing an earlobe between his teeth, flicking it with his tongue and generating a stream of nonsensical babble from a now writhing Bradley,  ‘Is just do what feels good.’

Bradley didn’t need to be told twice, thrusting his hips up over and over, rubbing their denim clad and achingly hard erections together again and again.

At that moment all there was, for Colin, was Bradley; the taste, the touch, the smell.  It didn’t matter that they were still on the sofa, that they were still fully clothed.  This was right. This was how it was supposed to be and he never wanted it to end. 

‘So ... fucking ... good ...’ Bradley’s hands caressed Colin’s arse frantically, his thrusts becoming more erratic with every passing second, ‘God ... Colin ... wanted this ... so  long ...’

‘Me too ... uh ....’ Colin couldn’t find the words , he was too focused on Bradley coming apart underneath him.

‘ I’m ....  ungh ... Col ... need to ...’ Bradley’s whole body was shaking now and he’d stopped moving, ‘please ... Colin ...  _please_  ...’

The sheer need in Bradley’s voice went straight to Colin’s cock and he snapped his hips forward once ... twice ... and then he was coming, harder than he’d come in years, Bradley’s name on his lips even as Bradley’s mouth met his own once more and then he, too, came. 

They rode out the aftershocks together in a tangle of sweat drenched clothes and boneless limbs, kissing as if they were randy teenagers.   When they finally came up for air, both grinning like idiots, chest’s heaving, Bradley was looking at Colin with awe.

‘That was ... bloody amazing, love.’ He pressed a kiss to Colin’s temple and then tightened his arms round his waist, ‘Can we do it again?’

‘Of course,’ Colin chuckled, raising himself up on one elbow ‘as often as you like. Only ...’ he looked at the bowl on the coffee table as his stomach emitted a loud gurgle, ‘can I have my cake first?’

**Author's Note:**

> Cross posted to Livejournal  
> Would really love some con-crit on this as it is the first in a series and the first time I've shared RPF


End file.
